


There's Something About Malfoy

by StoneAndRoses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kissing, Sassy Ginny, Side Same Sex Relationship, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts for her eighth year without the companionship of Harry and Ron. Her intense class schedule is annoyingly identical to Draco Malfoy's, and they've become partners in Potions as well as most of their subjects. They've become almost friends, but will it turn into more?This is a fluffy, humorous one-shot made up of snippets of a week or so (with flashbacks and summary) in their eighth year. Beware of some swearing and kissing scenes!





	There's Something About Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teenage_hustler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenage_hustler/gifts).



Hermione plopped into her usual spot in the back left corner of the dungeon classroom as she did every Monday morning. She had obviously returned to officially finish her education. She hated falling into her stereotype so directly, but maybe predictability was just her obvious “character flaw.” (Personally, she thought it was a good characteristic.) She loved to learn, and she loved to follow rules, well at least when they were good rules that made sense to have. And someone wasn’t trying to kill her or her friends. Therefore, Hogwarts was where she found herself only a few months after the chaos finished, and the dust settled, as things went “back to normal.” 

But nothing could be considered normal as she was one of fifteen students from her year who had returned, and none of those fifteen were Harry or Ron. 

There was no grand fight, he did not cheat on her, there was not a shouting match, but she and Ronald had decided to go their separate ways romantically. They had, in Hermione’s opinion, handled things like proper adults. With minimum argument, and hurt feelings. He was now off playing professional Quidditch for the Ballycastle Bats, living a life that he had not been able to as a child, and enjoying every minute of it. He relished being in the newspaper all the time for a  _ normal _ reason. The two of them were fine, back to their initial relationship, which of course meant she felt that she was constantly shaking her head at him or nagging him. But she loved him... In a platonic, cousin-like way.

The third piece to the legendary Golden Trio was doing the complete opposite of Ron. He was keeping to himself, trying to figure everything out. With everything that had gone down, she didn’t blame him for not just wanting to soldier on. She thought that Harry needed time. 

There were considerably more tears involved in his and Ginny’s break up, but they were closer than ever now. That had something to do with, Hermione assumed, with Harry wanting to ‘find himself,’ and Ginny initially falling for him because of the legend that is Harry Potter. Not because she wanted _just_ Harry. Nobody ever saw _just_ Harry. 

Except apparently Lee Jordan. The last letter she had received from her best friend had mentioned he just happened to run into Lee while at some Museum in Antwerp. They were currently on a whirlwind trip around the Nordic countries, but he promised to visit soon. The picture of them kissing at the top of the fjord had made her incredibly jealous.

While making a note to herself to respond to that letter begging for more details, her blonde table partner found a seat next to her. Surprisingly, to literally everyone but her, Draco Malfoy had returned to complete his education at Hogwarts. Even if the Ministry had not all but forced him to, she knew he would be back, and she would see a lot of him. With the exception of their sixth year, and she assumed the farce that was their seventh, Draco had excelled in school, and was extremely smart. His primary goal was not in fact pleasing his Father, there was a genuine thirst for knowledge, even if Hermione believed it was for selfish gains. He wanted to become an impressive wizard who rose to the upper echelons of society on both his name and skill. She drank in knowledge to help people and other beings. As different as their goals were they still slurped up information from the same milkshake straw, at almost the same speed. As he settled into the stool, and took his parchment and quill out he nodded to her. It would be approximately eight minutes and twenty seconds before he was awake enough to be talkative. She had learned the hard way to wait. The purple highlights had stayed in her curls for weeks. 

Ginny, her closest, and simultaneously most annoying, friend came scurrying in to sit next to some random Hufflepuff girl in the redhead's year. Hermione could never remember her name. Ginny shot a quick wink, and a less than subtle head jerk towards Malfoy. She also… was that… was she trying to wiggle her eyebrows? Hermione would never understand the girl, but she really loved her. 

The classroom was made up of twelve seventh years, with her and Draco making up the “eighth” year contingent. The tornado of black robes that would be sweeping into the room at any moment was as strict and picky as ever, only granting the ability to grace his classroom upon Draco and Hermione out of all the eighth years. They were in class with the seventh years but working independently of everyone else, because Merlin forbid Severus Snape had to spend more time than necessary around students. She understood it though, his voice was still righting itself post snakebite, and he had always acted as if everyone was insufferable. But now on a good day, he actually had academic discussions with the two of them when he was giving them their projects. And he had given her an extremely veiled compliment last week. The average person would have thought it a mild insult, but she knew better.

The best part of this whole year is they would be half-way through a Mastery with one of the best (barely) living potion masters around. She could not have turned it down. She and Draco also came to work well together. Their styles melded well, and their thought processes flowed nicely. Of course, being paired in  _ literally _ (yes literally she wasn’t Lavender Brown after all) every class would do that. Most of the professors had followed in Snape’s footsteps, giving the eighth years projects to work on with a mix of lectures. But obviously potions was taking the most brain power and time, with Arithmancy a close second. They were also the only eighth years taking that class, unsurprisingly. She thought Goldstein might have joined them, but apparently he already had a position in experimental Charms lined up and thought he wouldn’t need Arithmancy for it… amateur. 

The heavy oak doors banged open, as they did each Monday, and a few of the seventh years still jumped even after all this time in class with Snape.

“Your assignment is on the board… begin,” drawled their seemingly disinterested Professor as he marched down the center aisle. After the instructions appeared on the blackboard he approached Draco and Hermione’s table. 

“I trust your research is going well?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Of course, sir,” was Draco’s quick response. 

“Good. I hope that you two continue to not disappoint me. Today I’d like you to brew some supplies for Madame Pomfrey. Here’s a list. We’ll discuss your project next week and you can begin the brewing.”

“Yes, sir,” said both her and Draco, taking the list and examining it. 

They began to move around each other as always, Draco fetching ingredients and Hermione beginning to set up the work station. As he was significantly taller, he succeeded in getting many of the rare ingredients without the ladder, and they found that they were much more efficient this way. 

A short time later, they were chopping along amicably, with four cauldrons going at once. Two on the table in front of them, and two on the counter behind. It was highly organized, and moving along nicely, just as they both preferred. Snape passed occasionally checking their work, but the Draught of Living Dead the rest of the class was brewing demanded more attention. One cauldron had already melted, and the poor sod was going to be serving detention for the rest of the month. 

As she added the pressed aloe leaves to the burn salve Draco decided, much later than normal, he was ready for conversation. 

“How was your weekend, Granger?”

“It was fine,” she responded with a shrug. “Spent a good amount of it in the library, but also made it out to watch the Gryffindor team practice. Pretty typical. You?”

“Fine as well. Nothing really out of the ordinary. Did you finish the Transfiguration essay?”

“The one due this week, or the one due in three?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes, “The later, obviously.”

“Well it’s a valid question…” she got  _ the _ look from him. “Okay, it’s a valid question for anyone besides you. I’ll stop asking. But yes, I did. I love when we dig into the various laws of magic and how they actually can be kind of contradictory.”

“Agreed, although i’m not sure I’m as big of a nerd as you.”

“I’m the only person who doesn’t believe that Malfoy,” she said turning to give him a wry smile while stirring clockwise. “I’m in all your classes, and am paired with you in them on top of that. You enjoy it all Malfoy, ergo… you’re a nerd.”

He chuckled as he added some finely diced root to the cauldron in front of him. “Fine, Granger. But you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret I’d like to keep.”

“Once you get out into the real world though it’ll be hard to hide.”

Scoffing, he refuted, per usual, “No it won’t. I’m a Malfoy. Most people don’t know anything about my family except for what my father wants them to believe. I’ll just work behind the scenes. Nobody, except you and my parents, will be any the wiser.” To add emphasis, he winked at her. 

Hermione was slightly taken off course, he had been increasingly friendly as of late, but a wink was a lot even for him. 

“You can tell yourself all you want Draco, but when you finish just behind me in grades people are going to talk…”

“Who says I’m going to finish  _ behind _ you Granger?” She didn’t even need to look to know what shape his eyebrow now held as it worked its way towards his hairline. “I don’t have any distractions this year. And we’re working together. All I have to do is best you in Herbology, which I think I can do. Even if you’ve got an in with Longbottom.” 

“Oh, you’ll finish behind me. You have every year. I plan on keeping it that way,” she said, stopping her stirring and grabbed the next set of ingredients. Turning back to the cauldron, she dropped the diced root in, but was surprised when something quickly reached out and grabbed her elbow. 

All of a sudden, Malfoy was significantly closer to her than he normally got. She could smell the eucalyptus and mint of his cologne, and could see how finely pressed his collar was. 

“I really do love a confident girl, Granger, but I think I’ve got you figured out. I’m looking forward to keeping up this little competition, but when I finally beat you in the end, don’t get to hung up about it,” he whispered right next to her ear where nobody could hear. “But I do so love this little game we play, so I’ll keep humoring you.”

Hermione could not believe her ears. She stood there, likely looking like an owl in flying car headlights. Before she noticed anything was wrong, Snape was to the table in a heartbeat. He froze the cauldron of what had been burn salve that was about to bubble over, which probably would have caught all the parchment on the table on fire, smoking the room out. 

“I thought you could make these in your sleep,” he snapped in a low voice at them. “Please stop flirting and get back to the task at hand. I do  _ not _ want to give you two detention...but I will.”

Flirting? Severus Snape thought that Draco was flirting? Wait, was he? Had she been flirting back? Looking around trying to focus on anything but what was in the vicinity of her work station, Hermione’s eyes settled on Ginny smirking at her looking like she was going to burst if there was not a walk and gossip session after class. It appeared that most students were pretending they hadn’t overheard the interaction. 

Looking at Draco, he just smirked at her and kept working like nothing in the world was out of the ordinary. Not only was it unordinary, it was extraordinarily unknown territory for Hermione. One thing Hermione could not memorize or learn from a book (at least well…) was how to figure out men in a romantic fashion. 

\-----------

“I knew it, I knew it. You  _ like _ him. How did I not think of this before.”

Without looking up from her plate Hermione tried to head off her best friend, “Hold it, Gin. I don’t like him.” 

“You can’t say that!” she exclaimed exasperatedly as she plopped down onto the bench across from her. Looking around them to make sure nobody was paying too much attention, she pushed forward. “He was whispering in your ear in a very sensual fashion. Either those were sweet nothings or something less vanilla… and since you almost blew up a cauldron for the first time in your life, I’m going with the more erotic version.”

“Gin, there was nothing eroti-”

“Don’t lie to me girl, I know Potions gets you all hot and bothered!”

“Gin! You can’t just say that!”

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked like she was trying not to snicker at her, “Hermione, you have sex hair every time you leave the dungeons.”

Hermione gasped, and had to physically force her hand down from it covering her chest like a Victorian woman who just heard the word ‘penis’ at a dinner party. “Because of the steam and fumes Ginny! If you haven’t noticed, Professor Snape’s hair is also awful because he’s leaning over a cauldron all day.”

The redhead laughed at this, “Your hair isn’t though, it just gets messy and poofy. It could easily be the result of Malfoy running those sleek, long fingers through your curly head of hair while you’re under the potions desk su-”

Hermione threw her roll at a ducking Ginny,“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Ginevra.” Hermione leaned across the table so that she could whisper, “You know how quickly rumors spread in this bloody school.” 

“There’s going to be rumors regardless,” said Ginny waving her hand dismissively, “A third of the seventh year heard Snape tell Malfoy to stop flirting with you. I think everyone is going to know by breakfast tomorrow. Maybe sooner if Malfoy keeps staring at you from the Slytherin table like he wants to bend you over it.”

Hermione whipped her head around, making her hair fly like a shampoo commercial before it covered her eyes (she still didn’t understand how the models did it so gracefully), towards the Slytherin table. Indeed, Malfoy was looking at her, he gave her a sly smile and then turned back to Nott. 

Apparently there was indeed something going on, maybe it was time she ask him about it. They were similar once you got past all of that whole blood supremacist bullshit (which they kind of had at this point after a lengthy argument had begun with the proper way to simplify an equation and had ended with some tears shed and multiple apologies on both sides). Maybe Malfoy would respond well to her being direct. It would be the efficient way of doing it. She also happened to know he spent his Thursday evenings in the back right corner of the library attempting to study for Herbology while also finishing his Astronomy homework. Thursday nights were empty, and other students tended to avoid both of them in the library lest they get pissed off, or go crazy about whatever they were working on. 

“I see those gears turning in that active, big brain of yours Hermione. Do you have a plan cooking?” said Ginny dragging Hermione out of her thoughts and pairing it with a wicked grin. “You going to tell me about this one, or are you going to run off for seven more months?”

Hermione knew that Ginny didn’t really mean any malice, and the statement didn’t really have any bite, but for obvious reasons she had every right to be upset. They had not quite talked about the abandonment, and of all things that Hermione felt guilty about during her first 19 years of life, that was one of the worst. Leaving Ginny at home with the Weasleys and taking Harry away from her had been gut wrenching. Hermione knew that there was blame put on her for the falling apart of that particular relationship. But she thought it was for the best in the end, and would even tell Ginny so. Eventually there would be a girls night when there was too much wine involved and all of this would come out. (She was glad her little heart to heart with Malfoy had not needed alcohol, that would have meant some blubbering.)

“All I know is that I’ll be meeting a blonde in the library this Thursday and we will not be talking about Herbology.”

\-----------

He was at his usual table at the end of the row containing all the books on experimental charms. His bangs were falling in front of his face in typical boy band fashion, his eyebrows pulling together in slight confusion. He was likely on the section of the Herbology homework about the different types of worms. As a potion minded person that chapter had been a little conflicting. 

As she walked down the aisle of tomes she was still trying to parse out what she was going to say to him, lest she start waxing poetic about her thoughts, which she had a tendency to do. But normally in a less than poetic manner. That’s why Snape always accused her of reciting, she liked being technical, which involved quoting a lot. But she would be an even more insufferable swot if she included air quotes while she was talking. 

Maybe it was best to start with a question, but that would put the quaffle in his air space. He had been unpredictable lately, so it would be a risk. But it was difficult to say how high that risk was. 

Maybe she could just stand there with her arms crossed and wait for him to say something, nope same problem as above. Well, apparently she was going to make a game time decision.

Apparently that meant slamming her herbology textbook onto the table and putting her hands on her hips, and just staring down at him. 

He slowly lifted his head, and then raised his right eyebrow to mirror the vaulted ceiling. 

“Something I can help you with, Granger?” he said in a low voice. She couldn’t tell if the edge she had heard was something that was always there, or if he was otherwise annoyed. But his face looked intrigued. 

“I..I..” she began to stammer.  _ Buck up girl, you can do this _ , she told herself. She straightened her back as best she could, and raised her nose in her best Narcissa impression, “I wanted to ask you about the stunt you pulled in Potions this week.”

He chuckled softly, “I’m not sure what you mean, Granger. It seemed like it was you who was causing a fuss in class.” 

She scoffed quietly, keeping her lips together the best she could. “You know I had nothing to do with that. You are the one who caught me off guard.”

Snorting, Draco stood and smirked. He trailed his left hand along the table as he rounded it towards her. He looked like a Hungarian Horntail approaching a Triwizard Tournament participant, stalking his target. She wouldn’t say that she was scared, but she couldn’t deny her muscles were tensing slightly. 

She slightly steeled herself as he came to stand a couple steps in front of her. His tall, lanky frame meant that he towered over her, but she noticed he didn’t do it in a particularly intimidating way. It was more like he was trying to invade her space but make her comfortable. 

“It’s apparently my job to keep you on your toes now that Potter and Weasley are gone. I was only performing my duty.” He gave another smirk and brushed past her down the aisle to her left. 

What? What in the world did that mean? After a tick, she turned and followed him down the aisle. 

“Malfoy,” she hissed, not wanting to anger Madam Pince. “We’re not friends.”

He didn’t bother to turn and look at her, “Of course we are Granger. You’ve implied it many times since the start of term. We know each other quite well. And clearly we’re matched academically. Haven’t you always wanted a friend to study with, talk about the academic journals you inhale at the breakfast table? Maybe even edit your essays instead of the other way around?”

“Yes, but… but… you don’t actually like me.”

“ _ Didn’t _ , Granger, I  _ didn’t _ like you. That hasn’t been true since fourth year. And yes, maybe after that I tolerated you, but I genuinely thought we were friends now.” He turned at that to look her in the eyes. “Especially after that night discussing equations. It was particularly enlightening even for you. Deny it, Granger. Tell me you don’t like me.”

Now that surprised her. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. 

“I guess… I guess I can’t. I’m not sure if I’d thought of it before, but I guess if we’re not friends per se… we’re on the way there.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Granger.” He took a book off the shelf and started making his way towards her again. She assumed he was headed back to the table so she turned to go back as well.

However, for the second time this week he reached out and grabbed her elbow. Did he realize how intimate of a gesture that was?

“Wait, Hermione.” She froze slightly hearing her first name roll of his tongue. “Really though, I don't dislike you at all. In fact, I think I quite like you.” Oh, he definitely knew about the elbow then. 

She turned to look at him. He was leaning forward towards her, with his hand still on her elbow. Glancing down towards it, she recognized his rough hands from potions and Quidditch, but noticed that his forearms were bare this evening as he had rolled his sleeves up. A large scar where his Dark Mark used to be was clearly visible, and she noticed she didn’t flinch at it as she used to. 

Making her way up to his face, she noticed his expression was soft, but searching. He seemed worried about something. 

“Ma-- Draco, I, I’m not sure what to say. I think I like you too but --”

He smiled at that, and leaned in closer. Dear Merlin, was he going to kiss her? 

He did, but not as she expected. When he lent down, he pressed a soft, barely there kiss on her forehead. She again was washed over by his fresh scent, and was surprised at how gentle he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he said shaking his head, “Where  _ are _ my manners?” he asked sliding his hand down from her elbow to hold her hand like the good young member of the nobility he was. “Hermione, may I kiss you? Kiss you properly?”

At that moment it sounded like the best thing that could happen to her in the library. She probably should have been smite where she stood for that thought alone.

“Yes,” she said a little breathily. Great, now she sounded like a Bennet sister that was not named Elizabeth. 

He leaned in closer this time, giving her a small, light peck on the lips, and then another on the cheek. 

“Are you going to be at the match this weekend?” he said a few centimeters from her face.

All she could do was lightly nod at this point, she chose given up on spoken words for now. 

“Great,” he said kissing her forehead again. “I’ll see you there. Even if you are wearing red and gold, I hope you’ll be cheering for me too.” Before his smirk returned to his face, there was a genuine smile aimed at her. But then he walked away leaving her leaning against the charms books wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into. 

\-----------

“Hermione Granger, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

Looking up from this month’s  _ Arithmancy Today _ journal, Hermione’s grin broadened as she spotted the familiar black mop of hair that belonged to her best friend. Standing quickly, she turned to pull the bespectacled wizard into a big hug. When she pulled back, she smacked him on the back of his head, and as a result he seemed quite affronted. 

“Harry James Potter!” she hissed. “When were you planning on telling me that you were visiting?”

Harry shied away slightly, scratching the side of his head, giving Hermione flashbacks to their earlier school years. “It was a bit of a last minute decision. I would have written, but I figured I would beat the owl here… so here I am!” Harry even punctuated the statement with what Hermione thought of as his lame “ta-da” arms.

“Well, I’m very excited you’re here. I assume it doesn’t even have anything to with the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch match in about… 2 hours?” she said in her best fake sweet voice. Now she really had him sweating. 

He blushed, looking anywhere but at her, “Maybe… I had promised Gin I would try to make it… but wasn’t sure if I would. But now you just get the bonus of hanging out with me.”

She giggled and reached to pull him into another hug, “I’m just teasing Harry. I’m looking forward to actually getting to sit with you during a Hogwarts game. I’ve never done that since I’ve been worrying over your bones breaking or disappearing… or worse…” she trailed off. Conversations still had a tendency to turn dark or sad without warning. She always felt extremely uncomfortable, and also upset with herself when it happened. Harry seemed to be handling it better now though. 

“Well I promise I won’t be chasing after a snitch today, but no promises on the state of my bones. Bludgers are supposed to be erratic after all.”

She laughed and finally settled back into her seat as he plopped onto the bench beside her. “So, Lee Jordan?”

His blush became even deeper. Harry quickly went back to a school time tick, staring down at his lap while running his hand through his hair.

“Ummm.. yeah, we ran into each other in Belgium. I hadn’t seen him since… since…” Fred’s funeral she assumed. She nodded, encouraging him to move on. “And even though I felt like I knew the twins well, I can’t say I knew him very well. He asked me out to dinner —“

“And then swept you off your feet to Norway?”

“Something like that…”

She realized he was actually embarrassed and probably thought she was giving him the third degree. She shook her head sighing, “Oh, Harry. Look at me. Does he make you happy?”

He raised his head slowly and began to nod, “So much so.”

“Than that’s all that matters. I remember him being quite funny.”

Gone was the red flush, replaced with beaming excitement across his face, “Yeah he is. But he’s also been traveling since he graduated while trying to help with the joke shop. He’s got a nice head his shoulders. And loves a good adventure.”

She smiled over her toast, “Sounds perfect, honestly. I’m sure what looks like knee buckling kisses on top of fjords is also a bonus…”

She finally saw a glint in his eye and smirk on his face, recognizing the teasing, “And on ferries, and tops of bell towers, and in town squares, and—“

“Alright lover boy,” she said raising her hands above the table in resignation. “I really am happy for you, but I don’t need anymore specifics. Rooming with Gin and some of the other girls is plenty thank you.”

Harry just laughed and began shoveling waffles into his mouth. Apparently his manners had not actually improved after school ended.

Before the end of the meal Ginny, Luna, Dean, and Seamus had joined them for breakfast. The boys were thrilled to see Harry and wanted to catch up with their friend whom they had not seen since the birthday party they had thrown in Hogsmeade for Hermione’s birthday. Ginny smiled along with Hermione as both witches had already heard the stories. 

Luna was sporting her gigantic lion head, and despite her offer to make them for everyone else as this was their last year as students going to Quidditch games, she was the lone member of the pride. Hermione opted for her typical Gryffindor scarf and burgundy hat that she donned for the later season games. It was a little windy outside, but her knits, some long sleeves, and her denim jacket would suffice today. 

After a certain point, everyone was milling, as seemed to be the tendency prior to games starting. Ginny finally got everyone moving when she left to join the team for warm ups. 

As the red head was walking down the table aisles the rest of their group finished their last swig of coffee. Which of course turned into twenty more minutes of talking. 

Finally on their way down to the pitch, outside on the grounds, Harry had his arm around her shoulder in a loving manner. “So Hermione, I noticed that Dean seemed pretty flirty at breakfast.”

She threw her head back laughing, “Yeah, but not for my sake, I can assure you.” If only Harry knew what his ex was up to at the moment. Or whomst she was up to things with.

He frowned, “Well...what about Goldstein…?”

She snorted, “That prick? Yeah, I loooove listening to him talk about himself at all hours of the day. Harry why are you trying to set me up all of a sudden?”

“Because I want to see my best friend happy.” 

She laughed again. If only he knew about the boy that was actually (maybe) pursuing her, which she thought could (maybe) make her happy. He would probably faint. Picturing Harry falling over like Neville first year made her smile.

“Oh, I see that smile, is there already a special someone? And I say someone since you keep rebuffing me on guys. That Daphne Greengrass is smart. And bloody gorgeous.”

“It’s nothing Harry… Well, there _might_ be something in the future, but nothing right now. And yeah she’s a bombshell, but it’s not her,” she finished with a laugh.

“Alright, if you need help…”

She threw her head back in a full on laughing fit, “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely call and or write ‘Mr. I’ve only had one relationship that went down in glorious flames and now I magically ran into a guy I’m into and we’re jet setting around the world like a bloody rom com.’” 

“Hey now! You can’t talk either, you and --”

“It’ll have to wait Potter, we need to get our seats.” Her deflections of conversations involving her failed relationship were really beginning to get to a legendary level.

\-----------

Hermione sighed deeply, leaning her chin on her hand. She had her elbow propped on the first row’s ledge. She had finally given into leaning on it about an hour ago, as the game was in it’s fourth.

Gryffindor was winning, but only by 20 points, so it was anyone’s game. Hermione had mostly been zoning in and out of Harry and the boy’s commentary, listening to Luna’s official commentary on the loudspeaker, and following the red headed chaser or shockingly blonde seeker around the field. 

Draco had taken a bludger to the knee earlier and her stomach had turned imagining the bruise that was currently on his leg. It was likely purple and painful. Cringing she searched to see Ginny flying towards the goal posts only to have the quaffle taken by one of the rival Slytherin chasers. 

Pointing, Harry yelled, “Malfoy’s seen the snitch! Took him long enough,” he muttered under his breath as their group followed Harry’s finger.

Draco came whizzing by the stands where they sat, quickly followed by the fifth year seeker for Gryffindor. Hermione couldn’t buy into the fantasy the boys were under that the poor kid was going to be able to catch Draco, so she was simultaneously (albeit mentally) cheering the blonde on, while trying to figure out how she would calm her friends, especially Ginny, down when Gryffindor lost. It wasn’t going to be their year. Hopefully Harry would just regale them of all their previous victories tonight, in true Oliver Wood fashion, and it would be fine. 

The two seekers were half way across the pitch already, and were starting to go into a dive when Draco finally reached out and caught the snitch. 

“Slytherin wins,” announced Luna serenely. Her version of enthusiasm was typically similar to how Hermione sounded while talking a calming potion, but it was a refreshing change from McGonagall’s half game experiment of letting Cormac announce the games. 

A mix of boos and cheers echoed through the stadium as Malfoy was swarmed by his teammates and they began to take their victory lap. 

“Damn,” said Harry, significantly more chipper than she expected him to be, “I thought we might’ve had that one. Maybe I need to have a word with the seeker while I’m here. What’s his name? Smith?”

“Something like that,” muttered Seamus, “he’s learning, but it’s just unfair him trying to keep up with Malfoy. The kids barely taller than his broom.”

They were all grumbling and beginning to gather their things to shuffle out of the stands when Neville began tapping her on the arm like a metronome. 

Turning she asked, “What are you on about Neville? You were basically asleep on your feet for most of the match. What’s got your attention now?”

He had a look of shock, like when she petrified him first year, and was just pointing at the air in front of them. 

Turning, she saw a smirk that had previously haunted her for years. Draco Malfoy was hovering about 10 feet in front of her, his broom just below eye-level. 

“Hey Granger, I’m glad you came to the game,” he said smiling, focusing solely on her. And she found she had a pair of attractive Slytherin boy induced blinders on, completely ignoring the detached jaws that Harry, Dean, and Seamus were now sporting. She was vaguely aware of Luna providing her two knuts on what was happening between the “star crossed lovers” on the pitch.

“That was a great catch,” she said just far enough above a whisper that he could hear her, but the rest of the crowd she suspected was trying to eavesdrop hopefully couldn’t.

His smile melted to a smirk, “Yeah I guess it was. I’m glad you found it impressive.” And then he winked at her. Bloody winked. When had she jumped into an early 1990’s rom com? “And since you did, it’s only appropriate that you be the one to keep the snitch.” Was he floating closer to her?

They were at eye level now, and Draco reached out to hand her the snitch. They must have looked like the Sistine Chapel ceiling, as the moment seemed to drag before she finally could touch the golden ball that so many people besides, ironically, herself valued. 

As she took it from his hand, he grabbed her wrist, pulling himself closer to where she stood in the stands. Shifting his broom to his left, he was suddenly very close, stopping centimeters from her lips. 

“How about it Granger? We do this again properly, make a real scene out of it?” he whispered. 

“Yes, let’s,” she barely managed. 

If she had thought the kiss in the library had exceeded expectations, this kiss was outstanding. His hand threaded into her curls that were peeking out the back of her hat sending a similar sensation to drinking warm apple cider down her spine and into her fingers and toes. 

Merlin that boy had talents outside of a classroom and off the pitch. Well technically they were on a pitch…  _ Focus girl, you’re getting snogged by a professional in front of your entire school right now. There’s going to be quite the scandal tomorrow, so enjoy it while you can _ . 

She wouldn’t go as far as rambling about the delightful pressure of his tongue and lips, or how soft yet firm he was, but Hermione allowed herself to block out the floating play-by-play of their kiss from Luna, the thud that was Neville fainting backwards into the bleachers, and even the indiscernible sounds (not quite words) that signaled Harry Potter was about to internally combust. The sensual amount of tongue was pleasant, and her mind began to run ahead of itself, and fantasies of them eating chocolate in the Room of Requirement, relaxing by the lake, and kissing more on top of the Astronomy Tower entered her mind.

Draco, sadly, pulled away from the kiss after what seemed like the length of double potions on one of Snape’s bad days. Just like in the library, he kissed her on the forehead, this time whispering, “See you later, Hermione.”

He made sure that she had the snitch and then flew off to join his teammates in the locker room. 

Closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath, Hermione steeled herself for what would likely be one of the more intense moments of her times at Hogwarts. And she was including the troll, giant serpent, and werewolf encounter in her mental rankings. It was definitely going to surpass the first three years, but be nowhere near the deep end of the pool that had been four through “seven.” 

As soon as her eyes were open, someone’s hand was on her shoulder turning her quickly to her right. She was soon face to face with her glasses wearing friend whose lips were moving. 

“...WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT? I KNOW I SAID YOU NEEDED SOMEONE BUT…”

She sighed, and just began to make her way up to the castle, ignoring the sputtering wizard beginning to follow her. It was indeed going to be a long Sunday. 

\-----------

Hermione stared into her mug of tea Monday morning, desperately trying to inhale the calming fumes of jasmine and ginger rising out of it. She did not want to be out of her bed, let alone in the Great Hall with the prospect of having to see her blonde enigma in a matter of minutes. 

By the time they had gotten back to the common room Harry apologized for yelling at the pitch. She understood the reaction, but was glad he realized, with zero prompting from her (maybe there had been a smack to the back of the head from Gin), that he was being a big fat hypocrite. She supported him in his gallivanting and decision to suck face with Lee, she expected some support in return. Even though she had inadvertently done said face sucking in front of him with his old school nemesis. Maybe she could acknowledge the scenarios were a little different. 

Obviously the amount of history that had to be overcome was something she personally was grappling with, and she didn’t expect Harry to do the same overnight. But she did expect a reduction in screaming about it. They were best friends, support was one of the golden rules where friends were concerned. 

Ginny had had a quite different reaction. Her best friend had asked Hermione if she had seen him with clothing off yet and if “the rumors” were true. When she had refused to indulge Ginny, the redhead had huffed and mumbled something about the snog of her life and not getting any details. 

By the time she just had tea leaves in her cup Hermione was hoping, even with her extreme doubt in Professor Trelawney's abilities, that the leaves could give her some direction. Preferably the okay to run back up to the tower and hide behind her bed curtains. But Ginny served as the sense of reason Hermione was in desperate need of and physically dragged her, Mary Janes scraping on the stone floor and all, to Potions. 

For the first time that year Draco Malfoy had beat her to their workstation. And he looked awake. 

“Morning, Granger,” he said at a volume that only ever served two purposes: making sure that not everyone heard you, and trying to induce feels. It was doing both this morning. “Have a good weekend?”

“Lots of reading,” she said, slightly tentatively. 

“Really?” he asked turning and smiling at her. “I didn’t see you at your normal table at all this weekend in the Library. You weren’t under your favorite tree either.”

She turned to him, fully awake now. “You know my spots?”

“Hermione, of course I do. We’ve gone to school together for years. And we’ve been studying together some this year. Something I really missed this weekend.”

“Oh, well, I ended up spending a lot of my weekend with Harry since he was in town. We went into Hogsmeade yesterday for the majority of the day. I promise I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Ah,” he said quietly, “Pays to be McGonagall’s favorites.”

“No, you just didn’t read your eighth year contract very closely. You just have to follow a curfew, but you’re free to leave, within reason, on the weekends. Although Minerva does appreciate it if you give her a heads up,” she said with a wry smile. “And you’re bare minimum her favorite Slytherin.”

“Aww that’s touching, Granger, but you don’t have to lie to me.”

“Oh, I wasn’t. The fact that you’re excelling in her class finally, has caused her to remove the burgundy-colored glasses. Well that, and the war… she’s got a soft spot for you.”

A silence came over the workbench then as they took out their writing implements and notes. But it was short lived. 

“Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger,” came the very recognizable drawl of the resident Hogwarts Potions Master (and their Mastery keeper). Looking up from her notes, Hermione was staring down the familiar site of Snape looking down his hooked nose at her. “I trust we will not be having any further issues after this weekend’s little...stunt… on the Quidditch pitch?” He chose to physically punctuate this particular sentence by looking over to Draco and raising his left eyebrow. 

She really wasn’t sure how everyone still was scared of him, the man practically followed a script: 

  1. Stand in what he thinks is an intimidating fashion, typically looking down at the victim.
  2. Say something with a dramatic pause thrown towards the later half of the statement or sentence. 
  3. Add some type of emphasis via body language. 
  4. Watch students quiver.



“Of course not Professor,” said Draco, avoiding his godfather's gaze. She appreciated that Draco valued Snape’s opinion, and he seemed to be unsure what his quasi-father figure thought.

She just shook her head, meeting his look in what she hopped came across in a challenging way. Molly Weasley eat your heart out.

“Very well.” Before he left the table, he shifted slightly to make sure Draco was looking at him, and dropping his voice said, “We’ll talk about this later Draco.”

He was then gone in a swish of robes and they started on the day’s work. Before she knew it, the full double hour had passed, and it was time to pack up to move on to an early lunch with some studying on the side. In one of the first outward examples of chivalry, the scion of the Malfoy house offered to walk her to the Gryffindor Table. 

She felt like Princess Di putting her hand in the crook of his arm, but she also felt ridiculous when she saw the amount of other students staring at them. She had never gone to charm school, she probably was doing something wrong. But it also could have to do with the typically clashing nature of their green and red ties. 

The topic of conversation was neutral, planning out their studying for the week: scheduling time to work together Wednesday while they revised for Ancient Runes, while Saturday was a match-less day and would be their afternoon to spend in the greenhouses tending to their pet project. As they reached the entryway for the hall, Malfoy turned slightly to whisper, “Granger I’d love to spend time with you away from prying eyes and without school work being the focus. How about a walk by the lake Friday night?”

She smiled at him, “I think that would be lovely. But I’m only agreeing if I’m allowed to slap you again if it doesn’t go smoothly.”

“I’ll agree to those terms,” he said laughing, “But I fully expect my face to be hand print-less by the end of the evening.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading y'all! This was my first exchange and I was a little nervous about it. It was outlined to be a little longer/smuttier than what this fluff-monster turned into, but I hope you enjoyed this brief little story.


End file.
